


Anaglyptics

by katling



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Melancholy, Mentions of Cullen, Sort Of, dorian drinks too much, mentions of Cassandra - Freeform, not sure they were ever really enemies, pariahs of skyhold, post-Blackwall reveal, slow burn kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 16:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: Written for a prompt given to me over on tumblr - Dorian would never tell it Blackwall and rather joke about Blackwall's abilities to craft things with his bare hands (reads without magic) but he absolutely adores how Blackwall makes wooden figures and gift them to the children of Skyhold. One day Blackwall sees him lurking in the shadow, watching him craft something and offers Dorian to teach him how to do this.I sort of used the prompt as a jumping off point.





	Anaglyptics

Thom had noticed him immediately. Since the reveal of his true identity and the Inquisitor’s baffling but gracious pardon, he’d become hyperaware of anyone in his vicinity. Not everyone was pleased with the Inquisitor’s decision and there’d been a few attempts by various people to express their displeasure, perhaps even to drive him away. They hadn’t gotten very far. Thom wouldn’t have defended himself much but Dennett apparently felt no such compunctions and after the first couple of incidents, he’d noticed a few of Cullen’s people, lurking in the shadows and putting paid to any further attempts. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Cullen had made no secret of the fact that he wasn’t pleased with Thom’s deception but he still protected him. Proving that Cullen was by far the better man, not that he hadn’t already known that.

But he had no idea why _Dorian_ of all people was lingering in the shadows and watching him. It wasn’t as though they’d been friends before all of this so he couldn’t be angry about a betrayal, the way Cassandra and Cullen were. Certainly Dorian hadn’t given any indication he felt the same sense of betrayal as the others when they’d last been out with the Inquisitor together. If anything, he’d been almost sympathetic in his usual slightly offensive way. And he didn’t appear to be here on behalf of anyone else to try and intimidate him. If anything, he just seemed to be… watching.

It took a little while for Thom to work out the pattern of when Dorian would appear. If he was repairing weapons or armour or doing small tasks for Dennett or the Inquisitor, he’d be left alone. It was only when he was working on one of his little projects, the toys and gifts he carved out of wood for the children, that he would find Dorian lurking in the shadows. 

“You don’t have to hide,” he said gruffly one afternoon when they were the only two people in the vicinity of the barn for once. He didn’t lift his attention from the small soldier he was whittling. “Can’t be comfortable standing there all the time.”

A rather chagrined silence came from Dorian’s direction and Thom wondered if the man was going to disappear or just ignore his invitation. But a moment later, Dorian sauntered into the barn, trying to look casual. Thom just jerked his head towards a nearby chair, one he had made himself. Dorian stared at him for a moment then he sat down. He seemed a little nonplussed, as though he’d never expected Thom to even know he was there, let alone invite him in.

A somewhat awkward silence reigned for a little while then Thom realised that Dorian wasn’t watching _him_ so much as his hands. He seemed fascinated by the way the little soldier was being revealed from the wood by Thom’s quick sure movements of the little whittling knife.

“Plenty of wood there,” Thom grunted, nodding towards the pile of small blocks of wood that he intended to turn into an army of little soldiers. “And another knife.”

Dorian hesitated for a moment then he slowly reached out and picked up one of the bits of wood and the small whittling knife. He watched Thom for a moment then he frowned at the bit of wood in his hand. Thom watched him out of the corner of his eye then quickly caught his wrist when the knife started to descend towards the wood. Dorian froze and looked like he was about to start a rant when Thom cut him off.

“You’ll cut yourself like that.” He deftly repositioned Dorian’s hands. “Try it now.”

Dorian stared at him, long and hard, and it took a moment for Thom to realise that Dorian had thought he was going to make fun of him for even wanting to try something so… rough. Perhaps he might have before but not now. Now he was just yearning for someone that he might be able to call a friend, someone to alleviate the endless silence and emptiness in his life.

“You’ve got to go slowly and gently,” he said as he picked up his own knife again. “Just a little bit at a time. Better to take too little off than too much.”

Dorian stared at him for a moment longer then he turned to his own piece of wood. Thom reflected that he’d never seen Dorian this silent and he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. The mage was an overly pretty noble who reminded him far too much of some of the people he used to associate when he had last gone by the name Thom Rainier but he wasn’t a bad sort. Certainly he never held back in a fight and Thom had Dorian’s barriers and spells to thank for avoiding many an injury. And if he’d ever harboured any thoughts of greater depth about the mage, well, that was his business and not of any importance.

They worked in silence for a time then Dorian started muttering to himself with obvious frustration. Thom looked over and chuckled when he saw the mess Dorian had made of his bit of wood. The mage immediately looked defensive.

“Did that myself for a long time, at least when I wasn’t poking holes in my fingers with the knife,” Thom said easily. “It’s not as easy as it looks but it just takes practice to master, like anything else.”

Dorian huffed and settled back in his chair. “I’m rather used to being good at things quickly.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Thom said with amusement.

Dorian huffed again. “We’ll see about that,” he said with an almost cheerful belligerence that drew a barking laugh from Thom.

He picked up another piece of wood and bent over it with determination. Thom watched him for a moment then chuckled and went back to his own work.

*****

It became something of a pattern. Dorian didn’t come down every day but when he did come down, he would settle into ‘his’ chair and set to work. At first they worked in an increasingly comfortable silence but it wasn’t long before a bit of desultory conversation started in the wake of trip out with the Inquisitor that had been a disaster from start to finish. Their mutual complaints about the trip turned to general chit chat and then as the weeks passed, more serious and deeper conversations until finally Dorian asked the question Thom had been expecting.

“Why did you do it?” Thom grimaced and Dorian waved a hand. “No, no, not _that_. I actually understand _that_ …”

“What?” Thom said with surprise. “You… understand why I…?”

“Let ambition get in the way of whatever scrap of intelligence and common sense you might have possessed back then?” Dorian said dryly. “Yes, I do actually. I’ve seen people do far worse for far less potential reward in Tevinter.”

“Even to the point of killing children?” Thom said, his words dripping with self-loathing and contempt.

“How does using children in blood magic rituals grab you?” Dorian said, his tone still dry.

Thom gave him a horrified look. “What?”

“No matter how bad you think Orlais is, Tevinter is ten times worse,” Dorian replied. His tone was light and airy but it was obvious how much that admission pained him.

Thom looked down at his work for a moment then back at Dorian. “So what were you going to ask?”

“Why did you reveal yourself?” Dorian asked. “There were ways you could have gotten Mornay off without trying to take his place on the gallows.”

Thom looked back at the little horse he was whittling now, to go along with the army of soldiers he’d already carved. “I was tired of lying,” he said with a sigh. “Of being looked at with respect by the Inquisitor and Cassandra and Cullen and not deserving one bit of it. The Inquisitor is a good woman and I was deceiving her. It was wrong.”

“You know Cullen still respects you,” Dorian said. “He’s angry at the lies but give him time. He’s too good a man to leave you hanging forever.” He snorted. “Also he has his own demons in his past and he’s not likely to be a hypocrite about this.”

“He sent people to stop the harassment,” Thom admitted.

“He told me.” Dorian paused. “I have some experience in being the Inquisition pariah.”

Thom wanted to snort and tell Dorian that he knew nothing about being a pariah but then he remembered how the man had been treated in Haven. How Harritt had spat at his feet and turned away when Dorian had made a simple, polite request about a repair to his staff. How the Chantry sisters had stared at him like he was some demon from the Fade whenever he walked by. How, for a long time, the only time he’d seen the man relax was when he was away from Haven, and later Skyhold, with the Inquisitor and her party.

He relaxed a little and sighed. “They say time heals all wounds. I’m not so sure.”

“I’ll let you know when I find out,” Dorian said dryly. He eyed Thom speculatively. “And you know not all the respect was because they thought you were a Grey Warden.”

Thom arched an eyebrow at him. “I thought you didn’t respect me at all?”

Dorian smirked at him. “I respect your ability with the sword and shield. Your skills or lack thereof when it comes to personal hygiene are less impressive.”

Thom shot him an irritated look, though it lacked most of its normal heat. “I wash every day and you damn well know it. Just because I don’t primp and preen doesn’t mean I’m not clean.”

Dorian’s smirk widened and Thom realised he’d taken the bait… again. He sighed and pretended to be irritated. In truth, he was almost pathetically grateful that Dorian was being so… Dorian. It made a change from the stiff disapproval from so many of the others.

“Bull and the Chargers wouldn’t turn you away,” Dorian observed after a few minutes of silence between them.

“You sure about that?” Thom said, sounding sceptical.

“He muttered something about offering you a place in the Chargers just the other night,” Dorian replied. “Krem agreed. Said that just because a man makes a mistake doesn’t mean he has to wear it like a brand the rest of his life.”

Thom straightened and stared at Dorian in surprise. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll come and have a drink tonight,” Dorian said, not lifting his eyes from his work.

Thom hesitated. “Aye… Aye, I will.”

*****

Dorian drank too much. Now that Thom was paying attention, now that he thought of Dorian as a friend, it was easy to see that. It was also easy to see that Bull knew it as well when they exchanged a glance over Dorian’s head one evening.

Dorian had been right that Bull and his Chargers would accept Thom into their midst without recriminations. They had done that and more, allowing Thom to piece together a bit more of his shattered confidence and self-esteem. Dorian had joined them more often than not and Thom had the impression that was something new. Not that Dorian had never sat down and gotten drunk with the Chargers, just the frequency of it. Bull kept giving him what he assumed were significant looks but Thom was ignoring them. He had no idea why Dorian was doing that.

“Your turn to take him home and pour him into bed,” Bull said in an amiable voice as he nudged Dorian over so that he was slumped against Thom instead of him.

Thom raised an eyebrow at him but in truth, he was thankful for the excuse to leave. It had not been a good day. Cassandra had sat him on his arse four times that morning and a few of the new recruits had taken that as their excuse to heap abuse on him until Cullen had put a stop to it. He’d appreciated that but the Commander was still being quite cool to him so he’d slunk back to his barn to wash up and essentially hide for the rest of the day. He almost hadn’t come tonight but it had settled into a habit and he’d found himself at the door before he really knew what he was doing.

Despite that, his heart hadn’t really been in it tonight and he’d been nursing his current mug of ale for quite some time. He gladly set it aside in favour of sliding a shoulder under Dorian’s arm and hauling him to his feet. He grunted as he did so. Dorian was heavier than he looked but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Dorian was surprisingly well-muscled for a mage.

“Unhand me, you brute!” Dorian exclaimed in an overly dramatic voice, though he made no attempt to free himself.

“You’re drunk,” Thom said gruffly. “Time to sleep it off.”

“I’m often drunk,” Dorian replied. 

Thom grunted again. “Too often.”

“Well, what else is one to do in this dreary heap of stone?” Dorian asked as they reeled out the door and into the cold night air.

Thom was silent for a moment. “You may have a point there,” he conceded.

“Thom,” Dorian said. He paused. “Blackwall.” He paused again. “Rainier.”

Thom chuckled. “Yes? Pick one.”

“I’m trying to decide which suits you better,” Dorian said, squinting at Thom and leaning more heavily on him.

“Damned if I know,” Thom said with a sigh.

Dorian continued to squint at him as he hauled the man up the stairs to his room and it was only when he dropped him on his bed that Dorian spoke again.

“Blackwall, I think,” he said decisively. “You spent so long trying to live up to the image you had of the man that you became him.”

Thom froze and then leaned against the wall with a casualness he didn’t really feel. “Did I? Doesn’t much feel like it.”

“Well, you’re a little less excruciatingly noble than when you were pretending to be Blackwall,” Dorian said with a wave of one hand. He hadn’t moved from where Thom had left sprawled half-on and half-off the bed. “The truth did scrape off a few of your more teeth-grinding edges.” He blinked slowly. “You’re a good man.”

The last was said in a soft, almost wistful tone, as though Dorian wished he was saying it about himself. Thom winced a little. He’d hardly count himself a good man. Dorian was though. A better man than him certainly.

“Come on. Boots off,” he said gruffly, walking over to the bed and kneeling down to work on the buckles of Dorian’s extravagant boots.

“A handsome man kneeling at my feet,” Dorian slurred. “It’s been awhile.”

Thom flicked a glance up at the mage. He’d had his suspicions about Dorian’s preferences but had never really felt it was his place to ask. His own preferences were a little broader. Not that he’d been seeking the company of anyone other than paid fancies for quite some time. Professionals didn’t care who he was, just whether or not he had the coin. It was colder than he liked his pleasures to be but there had been little choice really.

“No shortage of handsome men here,” he said absently as he pulled one of Dorian’s boots off.

Dorian hummed and wriggled his toes before resting his foot on Thom’s thigh. “Oooh, warm. Is that why you have all that hair? To keep you warm?”

“You’d be amazed how much of a disguise a beard can be,” Thom said as he went to work on the other boot.

“Hmmm,” Dorian said as he scrunched his toes against the fabric on Thom’s breeches. “Keep me warm.”

Thom looked up in surprise then pulled Dorian’s boot off. He shoved the man so that he was lying on the bed more comfortably and then made to stand. Dorian caught his wrist and when he looked at the man, he was surprised to see that Dorian wasn’t _quite_ as drunk as he’d thought.

“Stay.”

Thom reared back a little but made no attempt to break free of Dorian’s hold. “You’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk. Stay. Just… stay.”

There was something lonely in Dorian’s eyes that Thom recognised all too well. It was that which made him toe off his own boots. He pulled away from Dorian’s hand then but only long enough to unlace and pull off his quilted tunic. 

“Shove over,” he said gruffly.

Dorian did so, wriggling around so that he could pull the sheets and furs free, and Thom gingerly got into the bed. The sheets were far softer than his bed in the barn and it smelt better too. Some strange mix of Dorian – sweat and musk and something spicy like burnt cinnamon – that he recognised from the times they’d shared a tent on the road. Thom felt himself relax a little then Dorian turned and draped himself half over him. 

“Warm,” Dorian murmured happily, burying his face in the crook of Thom’s neck.

Thom stared down at him, baffled and uncertain, but Dorian didn’t move and a moment later he heard a soft shore. Thom shook his head and gingerly wrapped an arm around Dorian’s shoulders. He was sure there was going to be hell to pay when Dorian woke the next morning but he was comfortable and warm and relaxed and he’d handle whatever came in the morning when it arrived.

*****

Thom woke slowly, aware that he wasn’t in the barn but it took a moment to remember what had happened to previous night. They shifted during the night onto their sides and Dorian was plastered against his front, curled up happily and still asleep, his hair a riot and his moustache askew. Thom watched him sleep contemplatively and made no move to leave the bed before Dorian would wake.

He knew he’d been avoiding examining how he felt about Dorian for a long time, far longer than anyone might expect. They hadn’t much liked each other at first and later… well, he’d been content to leave it at friendship and not seek to find out if there was anything more lying between them for fear of ruining everything. He’d been too afraid to reach out that final distance and make any sort of move and he had the distinct feeling that Dorian _wouldn’t_. Not unless he was one hundred percent sure and Thom knew he could hide the truth even from the best of them. Hadn’t he hidden his true nature even from the infamous Nightingale herself?

But this? This waking up in a comfortable bed with this man snugged up tight against him? He _liked_ this. He liked Dorian. Perhaps it was even more than that but he’d never been good with that sort of thing even before he’d fallen into own personal abyss. But that didn’t mean he… _they_ … couldn’t try. Assuming Dorian actually wanted more than friendship and this wasn’t just his drunken self seeking warmth. But Thom didn’t think that’s what it was… or rather he didn’t think that’s _all_ it was. He’d seen the glances Dorian had given him and he’d known that Bull had been getting at with all his significant look and sly comments. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

“You think very loudly early in the morning,” Dorian mumbled. He stretched a little then curled up in Thom’s embrace again.

“Sun’s well up,” Thom said. “It’s not that early.”

“If it’s before midday, it’s far too early.”

Thom chuckled and heard Dorian’s contented noise, presumably at the way the laughter rumbled through his chest. He sobered then and was silent for a time.

“Why me?” he said when he’d mustered the courage to ask. “There’s better men than me here. Men more suited to you.”

Dorian was silent in turn and Thom wondered if he was even going to answer. 

“Do you remember when we went to Redcliffe? To the inn there? The Inquisitor asked you and Varric to wait outside.”

Thom nodded. “Aye, I do. You were upset when you came out and Trevelyan was furious. You were trying to hide how you felt but she wasn’t.”

“My father…” Dorian swallowed. “My father had wanted to meet with me. To… I don’t know. Convince me to come home without ever apologising for what he did. Or accepting me as I am.”

Thom hesitated for a moment. “What did he do?”

“He was going to use blood magic on me to make me… _normal_. Because he couldn’t bear the thought that his only son and heir preferred the company of _men_.”

Dorian’s voice was bitter, so bitter, and full of anger and grief and the lost voice of a child despairing at the betrayal of a parent. Thom tightened his embrace unconsciously, one hand brushing through Dorian’s hair in a comforting motion.

“Man sounds like a damn fool then,” he rumbled. “I take it Trevelyan gave him a piece of her mind?”

That got a soft, watery sort of chuckle from Dorian. “Yes, she did. It was glorious.” He paused for a moment. “You never asked.”

“Didn’t figure it was my business,” Thom replied. “Figured if you wanted to make it my business, you’d tell me.”

“You were very… protective.”

“Figured anything that made you that upset had to be bad,” Thom replied. “Trevelyan was still too angry and Varric’s not got the temperament to protect and not ask questions. So, figured I’d make sure nothing happened and you got safely back. Wasn’t sure you’d accept it so I tried to keep my distance.”

“That’s why,” Dorian said.

Thom frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I know how to explain,” Dorian replied. “I’ll ask you the same thing. Why me?”

Thom chuckled. “Never much cared about what was between m’partner’s legs. There were other things. Smart.”

“I am that,” Dorian said, propping his chin on Thom’s chest and smirking.

“Clever.”

“That too.”

“Smart-mouthed.”

“And that.”

“Pretty.”

“Am I pretty?”

Thom ran his fingers along Dorian’s cheek then up through his hair, down his neck and along his spine, chuckling as the man arched into his touch like a cat. “Very pretty.” He paused for a moment then continued. “Kind.”

Dorian looked startled.

“Caring,” Thom said.

Dorian sucked in a breath and looked very vulnerable for a moment.

“Brave. Reckless. Tempestuous.” He chuckled and cradled Dorian’s head in his hand, his thumb brushing over the man’s cheek. “Just never thought you’d look at me that way.”

“All the hair made it difficult to see,” Dorian said. His tone was flippant but the look in his eyes wasn’t.

“Maybe I should shave?” Thom suggested.

“No!” Dorian looked abashed for a moment then he ran his fingers through Thom’s beard, smoothing it out. “It suits you.”

They locked eyes for a moment and everything went very still. Then Dorian shifted forward until their lips were barely touching. He stopped there and Thom growled low in his chest. He wrapped a hand around the back of Dorian’s neck and closed the gap between them. The kiss was soft at first, gentle, an exploration and a question, tentative in a way Thom hadn’t been in years. Then they both breathed out and the kiss turned into something surer, more confident, more heated.

Thom rolled them so that Dorian was underneath him, relishing the way the man’s eyes darkened and he breathed out a soft affirmative. He lowered his head and their lips met again. This time exploring and mapping each other’s mouth until they finally parted, breathless and panting.

“Thom,” Dorian said, his hands slipping under the hem of Thom’s shirt.

“Yes,” Thom said as he raised himself up enough to let Dorian pull his shirt off. His name felt good coming from Dorian and for the first time in years , as he lowered himself down to capture Dorian’s mouth again, he felt like his name was something other than a curse.


End file.
